I'm Not Sorry
by Nemo120
Summary: Very dark story. Karofsky stalks and rapes Kurt. OOC because I don't envision canon Karofsky being THIS evil.
1. Chapter 1

**This is your warning! RAPE, non-consent, Karofsky is very cruel. I want to give this drabble a slight OOC warning because while he's an ass, I don't see his canon character being this evil. Maybe because in my other story he's not a bad dude and I had to get this out of my system? Who knows. Anyway, here is a glimpse into the psyche of a seriously messed up person. **

I'm not sorry.

I'm not sorry that I hit him, shove him, trip him, and psychologically fuck with him.

I'm not sorry that I take advantage of his insecurities and loneliness despite him having a vibrant enough personally that draws in people in.

He feels sorry for me. He pity's me. I can tell, you know. As much as he is terrified of me, he feels empathy for that poor little closeted faggot David 'Hamhock' Karofsky. Me. And I _hate_ that.

It's why I had to break him. I picked his cherry, raw and hard. I still remember how high I had his ass in the air, him trembling beneath me and whimpering like a pathetic virgin. As for telling him that he's vile, and ugly - he _needs_ to hear that. I know Kurt is gorgeous but _he_ can't know it.

Honestly, he was asking for it. The opportunity to own him was practically _given_ to me on a fucking silver platter. I waited for weeks, driving the two hours to Dalton to follow him home when I was sure he would be alone for the weekend. It was perfect because I knew Finn had a game that night – I would have too, but when that fag almost got me expelled I was suspended from all sports. Yeah. I knew he would be arriving to an empty home.

The new house his dad bought was big, real big. No one would hear him begging or crying. He should have known better than to beg, I had no choice but to shove my cock down his throat to get him to shut up. It would have been nice if he was more reciprocal, all that squirming he was doing made he have to smack him around. I think he enjoyed those smacks, every time I laid one on him a rosy red color would appear. It was beautiful against his skin, especially knowing I was the first one to explore his body so thoroughly.

But please remember, I am a gentleman. I was careful not to come inside him, just on his face and chest. That is what faggots are supposed to look like, right? It was so obvious he was a virgin, really, I did him a favor. When I was finished he lay there, like a rag doll that I was done playing with. He closed his eyes but I noticed the steady stream of tears running down his cheeks, but everyone knows Kurt is just a melodramatic princess.

Aside from the bruising, he will be just fine. I even pushed a finger up him when I was done to check if he was bleeding – he wasn't. Like I said, I'm a gentleman, always treating the ladies and lady boys with respect. I'm not worried about him talking. This is our little secret, just between him and me. Because he knows if he does, I won't be such a gentleman next time.

**Yeah, not sure where that story came from. Please remember if you're ever assaulted it is NEVER your fault! Reviews are noooice. Pretty positive this is a one shot, unless people want more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**First I want to say thank you to the reviewers, you ladies n' gents are awesome and gave great feedback. You're right, this story is disturbing, I didn't know I had it in me. Chapter 2 just seemed to want to bust out so I wrote it and ta-da. I know sometimes I like where stories end and do not read subsequent chapters, so if you'd rather just end the story at chapter 1, read no further. This is Kurt's POV, probably an OOC warning for this as well since I'm not sure how he would respond to an awful trauma like this. **

I am doing just fine.

I _was _doing just fine.

I refused to be anything other than fine. If I said it to myself enough times it would eventually be true. Going through the motions, the actions of being fine, I have moments when I can almost believe it – but my body remembers. A sharp slam of something cold and metal, my heart stopping when I see a red jacket, the anticipation of opening a door to a room and holding my breath – they've all become natural reflexes.

My grades are perfect, my school uniform exceptionally dry cleaned, I've been thriving in the Warblers, and my body has never been in such good shape. Running a few miles a day, occasionally lifting weights, eating right….I don't _look_ like a victim. I don't _want _to look like a victim.

Dad, Carole, and Finn were so proud when I made the Dean's list, enabling me to receive a scholarship to pay for half the tuition. I have always gotten good grades, but I made it a point to really concentrate and throw myself into my schoolwork. Not being busy, it just doesn't feel right to me. On the weekends when I go home I work part time at a bookstore, otherwise (family aside) I do not see much point in being there. Especially since Blaine and I became exclusive, right before….everything changed. Sometimes I catch Blaine staring at me when he thinks I don't notice, looking worried. Or when we kiss, and I pull away too soon. At those times I almost break down, almost tell him, but it was not until I was so brutally reminded of what happened that I decided he needed to know.

I wanted to work in a bookstore, because it seemed safe. Quiet, with lots of people around, the shelves of books offering a comforting presence. But mostly, I chose it because I figured a book store was the last place _he _would come to. I bet _he_ can hardly read a cereal box.

My shift started out fine, it was raining outside and work was slow so I wasn't in a rush to re-organize the toddler books. So of course, I felt so safe in my environment that I didn't hear the footsteps approaching as a hand came down on my shoulder, so fiercely I shut my eyes. His voice was calm and cold as he spoke.

"Can you help me find a book?"

I wanted to scream.

"I'd like," I felt his hot breath on my ear as he leaned in, "some customer service."

Tears slowly rolled out of my eyes and I tried desperately to stop them. Stop them from showing my fear, my weakness, my shame. Images of the things he had done to me flooded my mind and visible shivers ran up and down my body.

"Please," I whispered, "Please don't hurt me. Please."

"You know Kurt," he moved to my right side, placing one finger under my chin and slowly turning my face towards his. "Fighting is no use. You were mine, you are mine, and you will always be mine." Softly his lips touched my cheek, so tenderly it disgusted every fiber of my body until I jerked away, standing up.

"There….there… are people….in here…you….you…."

"I...I…I…" he was mocking me, feigning a stutter, and I hated myself. Mentally I was telling myself he could not do anything, but an even stronger voice warned that if he was so willing to threaten me in public, what _wasn't_ he capable of? He blocked my path, making it impossible for me to move past, causing my insides to feel like they were turning inside out.

"Although, I must admit," he took one step closer, "that I do take great pleasure," another step, "in your refusal to cooperate with me." I was backed up against the book shelf, probably right up against some lovely child's story about how wonderful and fun life is. This was not happening, this could not be happening.

"And that attitude is gonna land your ass in trouble. Is that what you want?" His face was so close his nose was practically touching mine, "Why don't you make this easier and admit you belong to me? Do you know what happens to pretty boys like you?"

"Excuse me? May I help you?"

Oh god, oh _thank god_.

Anne, the assistant manager had surprised Karofsky, I could read it on his face.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, "Kurt, do you need help finding this young man a book?"

A sly smile played on his lips as his tone changed, "I'm good, thanks. Kurt's helping me pick out a book for my cousin. For her fifth birthday," he added, turning back towards me. "The one about the girl who falls in love with the beast, you know," he smirked, "after being forced to live with him and wait on him."

That was it, he could not have used a more obvious innocent story line to threaten me with and my stomach lurched. I saw the confusion on Anne's face as her figure blurred and Karofsky's voice became fuzzy, the large red shape moving for me but I stumbled forward, my lunch rising up and spewing _everywhere_. Quaking, I felt a warm body kneeling next to me and I knew it was Anne, even through my panicked blurred vision. I'd learned in AP Psych that even when the mind does not remember, or focus on trauma, the body remembers – and my body was to tuned in, so hyper alert to Karofsky that it instantly knew this was a safe person. My mind however, was another thing entirely.

"I'm dying," I cried, throat burning from throwing up, "I can't, I can't do this…."

"Kurt, you're fine," she rubbed my back, "there, see, you're okay. I'm pretty sure you just had a panic attack, I get them too when I'm stressed or tired. They can come out of no where if you aren't careful - has school been stressing you out?"

Hah. Yeah. I _dream_ about the days when my biggest problem was preparing for an oral report, writing a ten page paper, or understanding an algebraic equation.

"Is he, is the guy who was next to me…"

"Kurt!" She kindly scolded, "Stop that, don't worry about a customer right now, I asked him to come back later – let's just focus on you right now, okay?"

I wanted to vomit all over again. I wanted to quit my job, run away, and never look back. But I was so _furious_ that I was living my life around this fear, around this monster whose actions I couldn't come to terms with yet.

"You're going to go home, take a nice bath, drink a cup of tea and tuck yourself in bed, alright? No worrying about work or school," Anne helped me to my feet, still patting my back. And this was the moment. The moment I had been dreading, the moment I realized I was not fine.

**Well, obviously it just can't end there! Reviews are like food, they keep me going, aside from glee of course ;). I based Kurt's denial/behavior/trauma on my volunteer work as an assault hotline advocate; it's an issue that's very near and dear to my heart. (So maybe this is some sort of weird therapy, hmmm!).**

**Again, thank you for R&R-ing!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I really should be updating my other story, but this one just keeps coming! I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed/commented, it warms my perverted heart. This chapter is written in Blaine's point of view, and later Karofsky's. More warnings for Karofsky being sick.**

-Blaine-

I wasn't sure of the time, I just knew it was later that night and my head hurt from thinking, even in my dreams. Kurt's room was lit up from the moon, everything clear but the colors muted and relaxed. I stretched out on my back, him half on top of me, one of his legs over mine and an arm across my chest. He was breathing against me, soft, relaxed breaths that insinuated deep sleep.

Hell, _I_ felt relaxed watching him finally sleeping soundly. It's not that I suspected something was wrong, I _knew_ something was wrong. Too many nights I would be walking down the hall to the bathrooms to see his bedroom light on from under the door, too many nights he would text me asking if I was awake – I'd go into his room to see his eyes bloodshot and puffy. He would tell me school was stressing him out, keeping him awake, but come on – I'm his boyfriend – one of the many people in his life who should know better. And God knows Burt isn't clueless, after pressing Kurt for answers and getting nothing he discreetly asked me if I knew anything. After transferring to Dalton he was so happy, glowing with excitement and possibilities…what had happened?

Worst of all, I can't quite put it into words. Kurt looks okay, he got that scholarship, he's working, but there's just this vulnerability in him now that wasn't there before. Along with the emotional differences, his physical behavior had also changed. I can't help smiling as I remember when I showed him what a kiss _really_ was, how it's supposed to be. None of this face grabbing, mouth slobbering bullshit Karofsky forced on him. But after that, this was all Kurt wanted - cuddling, hugs. Sometimes I wondered if he kissed me out of obligation, or if he wanted to. How horrible is that? I don't want to think that, but there is an automatic stillness when we kiss now.

_This_ was what he enjoyed now. Us, sleeping together. Not _sleeping_ together, but me holding him, lying next to one another. Usually I would eventually go back to my room but after seeing the mess he was after he drove back from work, no way. He was babbling, panicking and talking gibberish. Christ, I thought if I hadn't gotten him to lie down we were going to take a trip to the emergency room.

My chest rose as I took one of those deep breaths, lungs burning at the amount of oxygen. I let out a half moan in response to the aching of my head, lifting my arm furthest from Kurt to drape across my eyes. I twisted to my side, running fingers down from his shoulder to his hip lightly. His face scowled and then relaxed again, jaw dropping open as he kept up slow, paced breaths.

_Oh baby, what is it you're going through?_

He squirmed and screwed his eyes shut together, moving a hand down between us and grasping my wrist. "Uhg…" he moaned, opening his eyes and fixing me with an almost sad-angel sort of expression. He loosened his clutch on my wrist, realizing his surroundings and smiled sleepily, his lower lip swollen and pouting. "Hey," he managed, in a croaky I-just-woke-up voice.

I twisted the short pieces of hair at the back of his neck in reply, and he slid himself up against my body, pushing one of his legs between mine as he pressed our chests together.

"You could use a shower," he mumbled. I decided to push my luck. It wasn't often that he was shirtless and pressed up against me. My eyebrows arched.

"We can shower together," I suggested, drumming my fingertips against his shoulder blades. He flinched, drawing back and I switched gears, feeling like an ass. "Actually, how are you feeling? You kind of freaked me out earlier." He sighed, and I couldn't help thinking: he has no idea how beautiful he is.

"Something happened at work."

"Oh yeah?" I was experiencing that moment when you know someone is about to tell you something very important, and your mind races through various scenarios on what it could be so you aren't as shocked. Kurt pulled away, resting his chin on his pillow, looking forward and avoiding me.

"Something with Karofsky."

I shook my head while lightly tracing my fingers on his back, "I'm sorry. Karofsky is such a fucking creeper. Did he threaten you?" For _fuck's sake_, was Karofsky raised in a cave? By a father who dragged his mother by her hair while banging around a bat and yelling 'mine?' Because that Neanderthal did not know when to stop.

"I guess." Kurt's voice was listless and he was biting down on his lower lip, a nervous habit. "He just….he…I've wanted to tell you…."

I sat up like a bullet, "Tell me what? Kurt, _what did he do_? I swear to God if he threatened to kill you again we're going to the police." Goddamnit, _goddamnit_. I felt like the world's worst boyfriend, the world's worst person. Only one person made Kurt withdraw like this when he was at his old school, and that had been Karofsky. Kurt reacted so strongly I just about jumped.

"NO! Blaine, please, please you have to promise me you won't go to the police! Please. I need you to not be mad right now. Please, you have to promise."

"Alright…" my voice softened, "I promise." I hated seeing him scared, so desperate. Something deeper, something darker was going on here.

He took a breath, a different kind of gasp and his eyes were wet and round, now looking into mine and afraid. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to get the words out, "Look…this isn't….I just…. I just understand if you don't want to be with me after, but you need to know." We locked gazes and he was crying, the tears pouring down his face. I'd never seen him look like this before, like some sort of beaten down beautiful creature. It made my heart break, because nothing that wild and free should ever be locked down and oppressed, no one like Kurt should ever be broken.

"Karofsky attacked me Blaine," he choked out, "a couple months ago, in my own home, in my bed, he did _everything_ to me," he was sobbing, and I could see his pride, his self worth, his heart, his fucking _life_ had not just been smashed, it had been put through a trash compactor. "I c-c-couldn't tell you or dad, I'm sorry, I'm so s-stupid," he was gulping words out between sobs and I couldn't focus, I couldn't think, I had no conception of time, and I was completely at a loss. The only thing I could make sense of was when I met Kurt's eyes and I knew I was going to make things right for him, there was no other option in my mind, I _had_ to. He didn't need me to freak out right now, he didn't need to see my rage just yet; he needed my acceptance, my reassurance that he was still the same Kurt I believed in and loved.

-Karofsky-

I flipped through the school year book, smiling as my eyes rested on Kurt's photo. His gorgeous, confident smile framed by those lips. Lips I've had around my cock. I reached inside my bag and pulled out a book. I went shopping the other day. As a matter of fact, I _did_ end up going back to that bookstore and buying the children's book I talked about earlier. And how scared he was in that faggy bookstore? It's been months since I saw him and I was still in complete control. I plan on mailing it to Kurt; I even wrote a nice thank you note saying how much I enjoyed his company a couple months ago. I'm not worried about him telling. Could I honestly see him sitting in front of a jury describing in incredible detail how good I fucked him? How I traced his lips with my wet dick before slipping it in? Nope. He's weak. A weak, pretty little thing that belongs to me.

I still can't forget how white his knuckles turned when he grabbed the bed sheets as I pushed inside him, it gives me chills just thinking about it. Electric chills, the kind that make you want to go back in time to that exact moment. Other boys have come out since he left, but they just don't do it for me. Not that they would ever be interested in me, not like _Kurt_ was ever interested in me. They think I'm ugly, an overweight moron. Kurt thinks I'm a moron. But do I really need to remind him how this moron fucked him nice and slow, then hard and fast, in _his _bed? Or how when he tried to wipe my spunk off his face I smacked him good and hard, then made him lick my come off his fingers? Does he need reminding that no matter how much that fag Blaine fucks him I will always be his first? Actually…that thought really pisses me off. Picturing Blaine fucking him, making him come.

That is the only part I regret, he didn't come once, and I need for him to come. For me. I need him to say my name, moan my name while I'm fucking him. These dry spells of not seeing him, I can't take it. I chuckled as I contemplated just locking him up in my room – so unrealistic, and so creepy. Drumming my fingers on his gift, I brainstorm my next move.

Which is why….yes, I decide, I need to deliver this book in person instead, and I need to remove Blaine from the picture.

**Well, there you have it! I think Karofsky is just this psychotic nut, but I plan on delving deeper into his character. And don't worry, you'll get plenty of Kurt POV in regards to how he's feeling about telling Blaine, etc, god, there is so much more to write X.X. Reviews are the best fuel evvvvvvvvaaaaaaaaaaaaar and in all seriousness, do mean a lot. Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for all the feedback, your reviews make me nod my head in agreement, lolz for real, but most of all get me motivated to move the story from my brain to paper! I'm doing the long drive from los angeles to san francisco tomorrow and wanted to get chapter 4 up before then….I did my best at proofreading, so here ya go. **

-Kurt-

I know I promised I would go with him, but this was something I had to do alone. Last night had been scary and freeing, but mostly scary. Still. Someone else knew now, I wasn't the only one besides _him_. A part of me felt a weight had been lifted that I didn't know was there, but even more penetrating was the feeling of guilt. Guilt that I had unloaded my burden on Blaine, guilt that I was dragging him through my emotional hell and asking him to keep quiet about it. Worst of all, knowing that he felt responsible for me getting what - better? De-raped? Felt horrible. I shook my head as the bus made a sharp turn, holding onto the bottom of my seat.

Blaine deserved a boyfriend who wasn't broken, someone who could give him what he needed mentally, emotionally…..sexually. He had promised not to say anything about what happened to anyone right now, but convinced me getting tested at the free clinic was a good idea. He was even going to get tested with me, for moral support. I bit down on my lower lip, I swear to God if Karofsky gave me something….

I shook my head again. This was _exactly_ why I could not let Blaine come. Boyfriend or not this was not his battle and the thought of a needle sticking his arm and drawing blood made me nauseous. Karofsky could come at me all he wanted, but I wasn't going to allow his actions to hurt Blaine. But even as I thought those words I knew it was a lie: Karofsky's appearance at work had shaken me to my core. That his mere presence paralyzed me, had induced a, what was it? A panic attack. That frightened me more than anything else. A familiar cold shiver ran up my spine. I felt powerless to stop him.

How _had_ he figured out where I worked? How did he know my work hours? Why after months did he decide he needed to see me? But mostly, were his threats idle or real?

What a stupid question. _What a stupid, stupid question_ _Kurt_, I mentally chided myself. I knew what he was capable of.

I was grateful when the bus interrupted my thought process, jerking to stop at the curb and I hopped off. Let's see, my eyes wandered building signs for the clinic, finally spotting it a few doors down. My stomach felt like worms were crawling around – getting tested for STDs – another wonderful experience brought to me by Karofsky, I thought bitterly. I was fairly sure I didn't have anything but Blaine was right, better to do this sooner than later. And if by some miracle he wanted to stay with me, I wasn't about to risk Blaine's health –

Hah.

Sex with Blaine. Right. _Sex._ It didn't matter how many times I repeated the mantra that rape wasn't sex, that it was violence driven by power and not love making. The act had been ruined for me. Just imaging enjoying it, enjoying having a man inside me….no, I thought as I pulled open the door to the clinic, to enjoy it would mean admitting on some level that I liked what Karofsky had done. I intellectually knew that wasn't true, but when would I finally _feel_ that it wasn't true? Would I ever?

"Do you have an appointment?" A bored looking woman asked as I made my way to the receptionist area, not phased at all when I stammered.

"I uh, I, I need to get tested for, um, for,"

She anticipated what I was about to say, shoving a form at me. "Fill this out, bring it back to me and wait for your name to be called."

"Thanks – "

"You can have a seat over there kid," she pointed, and I got the feeling she was counting down the hours to six o'clock.

I quickly filled out the papers, returning the clipboard and wondering what it was like to be infected or not. _But I'm not, I'm not, I'm not_.

"Hummel?"

A woman appeared as a door opened, some other power forcing me out of my chair to follow her down the hall into a small room. God, I wrinkled my nose at the smell in the room and shifted my weight on the cot where I sat; I _really_ hoped this place was sanitary. Okay (deep breath) I could do this; I just wouldn't look at the needle, or blood, or anything really, except maybe the inside of my eyelids as I shut them tight.

"This will just feel like a quick pinch," she said kindly as I sat on the cot, sacrificially offering my arm. "Very nice," she commented as I felt a sting, knowing without looking that she was taking blood samples.

"Alright, Mister," she checked the clipboard, "Hummel, we're all finished up here. I strongly advise coming in again in four months or so for another testing, HIV doesn't always show up right away. But if you're feeling any symptoms while waiting for your results…"

I zoned out as she talked on and on. Testing again? Ugh.

"…and I'll let you know as soon as possible," she finished, staring at me expectantly.

"Oh…right, thanks." I slid off the cot, relieved the process had gone much quicker than I anticipated. It was only four- thirty, if I caught the next bus I wouldn't miss having dinner with Blaine before glee practice.

And then, my heart was in my throat. There, sitting idly on a chair in the waiting room was a red Mckinely high lettermen's jacket. Jolted, I ran up to the front desk.

"What?" The receptionist asked, still bored.

"Yeah, sorry, but where did that person go?" I pointed to the lone jacket. She rolled her eyes.

"The bathroom."

That was all I needed to hear. Adrenaline pumping, I bolted outside, wildly looking around. _Cell phone!_ Hand shaking, I ran to the end of the block and turned a corner, pulling out my phone and speed dialing Blaine.

"Oh, no no no," I whimpered as it went straight to voicemail, unable to concentrate. I made a dash for the department store across the street, disappearing into crowds of people. As I speed walked through the perfume department I wracked my brain: _How had he known?_ I had told no one, and not only that, I had gone out of my way to make sure no one knew I was getting tested today. Deep breaths – but not too deep, I told myself. Maybe I was overreacting. I hadn't actually seen him, and was I sure the lettering had read Mckinely?

Relief washed over me when my phone sounded, only to disappear when I realized it wasn't Blaine and I didn't recognize the number. Let it go to voicemail, I decided, if it was him I was not going to give him the pleasure of torturing me further. I suddenly became very interested in whatever perfume was closest to me, ignoring my phone as it went off again and again, relentless.

"Sorry," a woman strode up to me, "unless you can turn off or silence your phone, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside."

Really? _Really?_ Hoards of noisy shoppers and she decided my phone was the clincher? Too exasperated to argue I blew out a breath of hot air and walked back outside, now angry.

"Screw it," I mumbled and answered, "Hello?"

"You're pretty cute when you're scared."

My heart felt like an iron grip was squeezing it.

"Why are you making this so easy for me? You, alone," he slowly drawled, "It's enough to make a guy think you're ready for more."

"Blaine and I are going to the police," I blurted out, hoping to make him nervous, "And they will see that you called me, and…"

"You aren't going anywhere," he responded flatly, "especially not to the police. And your Blaine? If you cared about him, you would stop using him as an obstacle that's in my way. Got it? Oh," he added, "please at least _try_ next time to make this harder for me, I enjoy a challenge, and these repeat scenarios really are getting _boring_. See you later, Kurt."

The line went dead, and I was left holding the phone in front of my face, staring into the speaker.

7pm, Blaine POV

"You went by yourself, you may or may not have seen his jacket, and then he called you? Christ, Kurt." I looked at him, crossing the room and joining him on my bed.

"I'm sorry," he answered softly.

"I know," my heart fell, "if you wanted to go on your own you should have told me, I'd understand. But now do you see why I wanted to come? Karofsky, he's not right in the head Kurt, he's sick. I would never forgive myself if you put yourself in a sketchy situation where he could get to you…"

Kurt's brows arched, his back straightening, "I don't think taking a bus downtown in the afternoon is asking to be attacked _Blaine_," he snapped, "I'm pretty sure it's my right to walk around in public without being threatened, so why don't you choose something else to get uppity about."

"I'm not scolding or blaming you…"

"Yes you are!" He shrieked, "What, so now before I do anything I should carefully consider if it justifies Karofsky coming after me? You want me to cater to this psychopath? You can't even imagine how this feels Blaine; you don't know everything like you think you do!"

He was off the bed now, standing across it from me, panting. "Look alright, look. I'm fucking….Okay. This isn't…I'm just. I don't want something bad to happen between us, I don't want you leaving me in the dust because you can't handle it, and it scares me to death that you haven't left me yet because it feels too good to be true." Tears were staining his cheeks and my throat felt tight.

"Kurt," I was choosing my words carefully, "you're right, I'm trying, but I don't know what the right thing to say is. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm not leaving you," I finished weakly, flopping backwards on the mattress. I let my eyes close, mostly because looking at him right now was too intense for me to handle. I knew he was next to me when I felt pressure on the mattress and his body heat. I opened one playfully, peeking at his apologetic expression.

"Kiss me?" My voice came out as throaty and he leaned down, lightly placing his lips on mine as we fell into a deep kiss as my arm snaked around his waist. He sighed and rubbed a warm palm against my cheek, his other hand resting on my thigh.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" It would be a lie to admit I wouldn't be disappointed if he wanted to stop, but at the same time I was suspicious of the fervent kisses after his emotional outburst.

"What do you mean?" He pulled back, arms lifting in the air as he pulled his shirt off.

"I – uh – Kurt…."

He dropped his chest down to mine when I figured out what was going on. Internally I groaned, wishing this were happening under different circumstances. Carefully I wrapped my hands around his face, gazing at him. "You don't need to do this Kurt. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

A blush washed over his features and he stopped, resting his head on my chest.

"I know."

I let him rest there until I heard deep breathing, sure that he was asleep, and reached into his bag for his cell phone. Searching the call history I took down the number I assumed Karofsky had been calling from – there were at least six missed calls – and slipped the phone back into Kurt's bag. Karofsky was playing a game, a sick, twisted game, and I wasn't about to back off and let him win.

-Karofsky POV-

I'm counting on Blaine wanting to play the hero. His face is so _annoying_, every time I picture it I want to punch something. Preferably, his face. It's nothing like Kurt's. That's probably my favorite thing about Kurt – his face. It is…what's the word, symmetrical. I don't understand what Kurt sees in Blaine –

"David, stop mutilating your potatoes."

My dad jerked me from my thoughts and I glanced down at my plate, my red potatoes turned half into mashed potatoes.

"David," he continued and I rolled my eyes, "I noticed there are some extra miles on the car, where have you been driving?"

"No where," I grumbled, throwing my fork down and stalking off. He just didn't know when to stop. I paused in the hallway when I heard my mom's voice, quiet and concerned.

"You can't just accuse him Paul, Dave's a very sensitive boy."

"I asked him a simple question…." My dad's voice faded as I wandered into my room.

Don't you see? I'm just a sensitive boy. Poor David Karofsky, with his internalized homophobia, his repressed sexuality and self loathing taking it out on _poor _brave Kurt Hummel. That's how Kurt thought of me, and I snorted to keep back a laugh. The image of Kurt getting tested for faggy AIDs almost sent me into a fit of giggles (giggles, really?). He could have asked me upfront if I had the gay disease, but no, Hummel was so much _better _than that wasn't he? Whatever. I was this much closer to moving Blaine out of the way, and _this_ much closer to Kurt having no choice. I opened the leather trunk at the end of my bed, fondling my new purchases. I knew Kurt was a fashion fag, so I was planning on giving him the liberty of having a say in what he preferred – a paddle or riding crop? A black or blue blindfold? Handcuffs or, well, no, there was going to be no choice when it came to that.

**Lalala, Karofsky is so cuckoo for coco puffs. Horrible as he is, I am having a good time getting to write such a bizarre character. I'm excited to write the next chapter because more characters get involved, this chapter was needed to kind of prepare for that, sooo huzzuh. As usual, every single review is a great kick in the ass to get me writing and truly very appreciated!**


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